Monstrous as a Croc (Daughters of Neverland Book 4)

by Kendra Moreno

  “Sorry,” I mumble sheepishly and lean down, preparing to pull more berries from the bush to put into my basket, but I pause again, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “Azalea.”

  “Hm?” She turns and whatever she sees on my face has her stepping closer in worry, but whatever is suddenly watching us has already marked us for death. I can feel it. We’re being stalked. “Bane?”

  “Shhh,” I urge, reaching out and dragged her closer, knocking the basket of berries over. Neither of us pay it any mind, even if we’d been picking for an hour. Scales begin to ripple along my arms in agitation, but I hold off on the shift. This could all be a trick of some sort, or worse, someone who comes in peace. Regardless, they’re dangerous, but I don’t want to shift in case that heightens the tension. “We know you’re there,” I call, trailing my eyes through the trees. Where the fuck was it? The danger magnifies at my words and I tense.

  Azalea’s hand begins to shake where she curls it against my side. She’s a powerful witch, but as of yet, I haven’t seen her do more than make potions. I don’t think she’s the sort of witch who could throw magic spells at people on the fly. If whatever is watching us attacks, I’ll need to keep her safe. I’m not sure how capable she is to protect herself, if she’s capable of offensive spells.

  “If I say to,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the trees, “you run as hard as possible back to the cottage and you barricade yourself inside.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine, Azalea. I’m the Crocodile.”

  “Yes, but you’re not nearly as frightening as the things found in Oz, nor do you know what sort of creatures could be coming from the other worlds. I will not leave you to die.”

  “You will if I say you will,” I hiss. Unable to stop it with the danger in the air, my bones snap, forcing me into a violent shift. The threat is too much, too thick, and I can’t help but allow the scales to crawl over me. Even with the pain I’m used to, I keep my eyes on the trees before us, searching for the threat.

  “You forget I’m a part of Oz, Crocodile,” she murmurs and begins to twirl her hands. Apparently, I’m wrong. Azalea has some sort of magic in her veins, but it doesn’t feel powerful enough to combat against whatever is slowly moving closer. Still, I catch no sight of it in the trees. I’m starting to question if I’m imagining it, if this is some trick of the land. Maybe my instincts are wrong. The things feels large and powerful; it shouldn’t be able to move without us seeing it in the trees.

  A branch snaps from my right and I jerk my head in that direction, my eyes slamming into brilliant yellow ones that are too large, too bestial. My gaze widens in shock and I have just enough time to shove Azalea out of the way before the giant humanoid wolf attacks. I have just enough time to get a good look at it before it lunges. It’s large, taller than I am in my Crocodile form, fur covering its body. It stands on its hind-legs like a person, even if it’s knees go the wrong way. A wolf, but a shifted one.

  Somehow, a creature so big as this had fooled us into thinking it was coming from in front of us only to sneak up from the side. Dangerous. So dangerous of a trick. If it wouldn’t have stepped on the stick, I would have never seen it coming.

  The wolf barrels into me a second later, a ball of thick musty fur and snapping teeth. It immediately goes for my jugular, attempting to drain the life from my body, but I’m not the Crocodile for no reason. I open my mouth and clamp strong reptilian jaws around its bicep, grinding down with all the force of my animal side. Yipping, the wolf jerks back, giving me just enough time to shove it off and stand to my feet.

  “Run,” I growl to Azalea who stands on the side twisting her arms. She’s too small against such a beast. “Run now!”

  “Almost finished,” she murmurs, twisting her hands faster. Green light begins to emanate from her hands, spreading outward, but I don’t know what she’s doing, what spell she’s trying to weave.

  The wolf slams into me again, knocking my feet from beneath me. My head bounces off the ground painfully, making stars bloom that I quickly blink away just in time to avoid a jaw snapping toward my neck.

  “Don’t let it bite you,” Azalea orders, more light spilling out. “It’s a werewolf. The disease is catching.”

  And my power is much different. I’m no were-creature. I’m a skinwalker, the ability to shift coming with the headdress I often wear on my head. What would it do to me to morph my powers after being bitten by a were creature? What sort of monster would I become? I don’t want to find out.

  I shove the wolf away, taking the opportunity to catch my breath before it comes at me again with all it’s strength. I know it won’t stop, not when it senses me as a threat, not when it assumes Azalea isn’t. I block the creature’s view of the woman with my body, making sure it can’t see the witch as she spins some sort of spell that’s taking entirely too long. We don’t have the time for this!

  “Are you casting a spell or knitting a sweater?” I growl and received a thump against my tail for the trouble.

  “You hush your mouth, Crocodile,” she snaps, and a blast of energy flares passed me, slamming into the wolf and pushing it back.

  “That was it?” The green energy disappears. “All that work just to push it back a little?”

  “Just watch,” she says smugly, stepping up beside me.

  Together, we watch as the wolf tries to lunge forward again only for a green tendril to snap out and wrap around its ankle, fastening it to the earth. Another snaps out, and another, until they become chains that hold it back and slowly tether it to the ground.

  “That will give us about ten minutes to get back to the cottage.” She wraps her arm around mine. “Come on, Bane. Let’s leave her to it and get back to safety before more show up.”

  “Her?”

  Azalea’s eyes scan the wolf struggling beneath the green tendrils and when their eyes met, she nods. There’s sadness in the wolf’s eyes, mixing with the brutal snapping jaws, and it’s a strange contrast in such a creature. I understand. Pity fills me but my focus is on the witch I need to protect at all costs. “Her.”

  I have the foresight to grab the basket and shovel as many of the berries back into it before we hurry through the forest. We still need the berries for Azalea’s potion, and with such threats roaming the forest, it would be more dangerous to go out to gather them. Once inside the cottage, Azalea begins to sprinkle potions across the windows and doors, adding protection on top of what she already has. Something silver glints, as if it’s finely ground up jewelry, and she covers every single door and window.

  “We didn’t have werewolves in Neverland,” I say, watching as she moved around, wishing I could help.

  “We don’t have them in Oz, either.” She pauses, thinks better of it. “Well, we do now apparently.”

  “How did you know what it was?”

  She stops for a moment to look back at me. “I met one long ago, thought I could tame the beast in him. Turns out, I didn’t do anything more than muzzle him for a time. The first opportunity, he tried to bite me. I shoved a silver blade through his heart when I couldn’t help him. Werewolves are dangerous, not for their ability to shift, but for their inability to stop the spread of their disease. A single bite and you become just like them.” She meets my eyes. “Remember that, because if there’s one, there will be more.”

  “Why didn’t we just kill it then?” I growl, staring at the door, thinking of doing just that.

  “Because she didn’t want to attack us. Didn’t you see it in her eyes?” I blink. I saw sadness but passed that? I hadn’t seen anything except for sharp teeth and claws. “Regardless, she was a victim and I refuse to punish her for it. If we go out, we need to be more aware of our surroundings. With werewolves roaming, and who knows what else, Oz just got a whole lot more dangerous.”

  I sigh, my scales slowly receding until there’s nothing but smooth skin left. “Great,” I grumble. “Why couldn’t I have fallen into Wendy’s world instead?”
/>
  “Don’t fool yourself,” Azalea murmurs. “Humans are the biggest monsters of them all.”

  Somehow, those words ring truer than any other and I frown. Humans are powerless normally. How could they be the worst monsters? It took me weeks to realize Azalea somehow knew what Wendy’s world was, even though I never told her. By then, it was too late to care.

  A long, sorrowful howl echoes around us and I cringe. A victim? She’s still a threat, but I don’t rush outside the door. Instead, I hold still as the wolf circles the cottage, tries the door without success, before she lopes off in a different direction. I pity the poor fools she finds outside in the forest.

  Chapter Ten

  The world is growing worse. Between the shaking that reminds me too much of Neverland dying and the various threatening creatures coming into Oz, I’m a mess of nerves and stress. Every sound is a new threat. Every creature is a new problem. For that reason, I spend the day attempting to convince Azalea it’s better to stay inside rather than venture out of the cottage.

  “I will not live my life suffocating inside,” she argues, her hands on her hips. Her green hair is wild around her shoulders, loose today, making me want to spear my fingers into it and give her a different reason to obey. “Stop it!” she growls. “You can’t keep me a prisoner in my own home.”

  “It’s safer.”

  “And what’s the point of living if everything is cushioned for fear of death?” she hisses. “I am not a bird. I cannot be caged.”

  “It’s not a cage,” I snarl. “It’s a momentary protective bubble. Your cottage is the safest place for you. When you figure out how to do a protection bubble around yourself when outside of it, then we can talk.”

  She stares up at me. “You think I’m helpless, that I can’t step out that door easily if I want to?”

  I grin. “You’re not stronger than me, little witch.”

  I shouldn’t goad her. I see my mistake the moment it slips form my lips, but I’ve underestimated Azalea as much as I used to underestimate those in Neverland. I should have learned never to piss off a woman intent on doing something I don’t like. Hell, I’ve run many a times from Lily’s wrath before my curse because of something I’d stupidly said.

  Before I can do any more than snarl, Azalea’s power slams me back against the wall and pins me there, green tendrils wrapped around me like chains. There hadn’t been any waved hands this time or a gentle coaxing. This is pure strength without potion. This is Azalea’s true power, the strength she’d been hiding behind her air of innocence. I’d sensed it a few times, but being attacked by it now makes my chest squeeze in both awe and arousal. My head cracks against the wall and I scowl at the witch holding me prisoner, even if I desperately want to kiss her.

  She moves closer, trailing a single finger down my chest and stomach, making me shiver. “You forget what I told you,” she chides. “Oz is for the villains, and just because I may seem weak to you, doesn’t mean I am.” Her eyes meet mine and she digs her nails into my muscles. “I’ve earned my place in this world just as you earned yours in Neverland. If I want to go outside, I will, Crocodile.”

  Before she can so much as grab the doorknob to make her point, the house begins to shake around us, a great rumbling sound, and when things began to shift, Azalea’s power drops me. Her eyes are wide with surprise, and as if she can’t stand it, she throws the door open. We both stare at what’s outside with wide eyes, surprise so thick, I’m not sure to step outside and look closer or remain where I am.

  Buildings. A mixture of mismatched buildings are peppering the forest, Some are covered in green as if they’ve always belonged here, but others are shiny and bright. More threats. More monsters hidden there. I run a hand through my hair in agitation. Can I not escape the sense of impending doom? It followed me from Neverland to Oz and now I can’t even hope to protect the woman I’m falling in love with.

  “Well,” Azalea murmurs, staring at the sight before us. “That’s unexpected.”

  “I think,” I whisper, glancing between her and the buildings with no current signs of life. Who lived in them? Which world did they come from? “It’s time we find my sister.”

  “Can she help?”

  “If she can’t, she has friends who can. They’re the ones who saved everyone in Neverland, who managed to find a way out. But there’s a problem.”

  Azalea looks up and meets my eyes, curling her arm around mine even after our little spat, standing with me. “Which is?”

  “Most of them will probably kill me on sight. Only my sister gave me another chance, and though Wendy and Tink will honor that, I have no doubt the others will not. I hurt too many people, killed too many, and I’m the reason they ever had to flee in the first place.”

  “Because you made a deal with my sister.”

  I jerk as if I’d been slapped, releasing her and backing away. “What?” I choke in horror, staring at the woman I’d given my heart to, though I haven’t told her that yet.

  She sighs, the sound so sad, it makes me ache. “You said I looked familiar but different, that I wasn’t the same, and you’re right. My sister was known for meddling in other worlds, and though she’s long since dead, the taint of her interference still manages to appear.” Her eyes meet mine. “Glenda. The good witch. That’s what everyone called her, but really, she was the eviler between the two of us. She was just really good at propaganda. And she’s not the only one with such power to manipulate words. We’re called idols, but most consider us a type of deity. We have the ability to. . . intercept certain things, like Crownings, Choosings, and Deaths, anything that echoes out across the worlds. But not all of us do so.”

  Something inside me urges me to get away from this woman, that being related by blood to her sister or whatever the fuck an idol is means she should earn what her sister deserves, but one thought plagues me and keeps me still.

  This was likely how the others looked at Lily about me. I’m the one related by blood, the bad sibling. How can I just dismiss Azalea when she’s clearly like Lily in the situation? Sometimes, we can’t help who we had the misfortune of calling family. Sometimes, we can’t help what sort of creature we were born.

  “You said she died?”

  Azalea nods. “She angered the Heirs too much with her interfering and they took care of it. At the time, I’d been relieved, but I felt guilty for it. For all her meddling, she was still my sister.”

  “You said you’re one, too, an idol. Have you ever. . .” I can’t finish my question, afraid of the answer, but she understands what I’m asking.

  “I’ve never meddled in Neverland,” she whispers. “But I have in other worlds, though not for my own entertainment. I’ve only stepped in when I saw a prophesy dying, when there was no other choice. Worlds could have died many times over, but the meddling of the idols typically prevents that. We all kind of have a sense of prophesy, and though I’m weaker by most standards, I can still make deals, spin prophesies, and protect. The potions you see me make, sometimes they’re not for me at all. They’re for other worlds that need them at exactly the right time.”

  I stare at her like she’s grown a second head. I don’t pretend to understand the talk of idols, but it makes sense. We’ve always known we were Chosen for our roles in Neverland. I assume Wonderland is the same, believing in some deity who could be no more than a bored and cruel witch. But Azalea looks at me expectantly, assuming I’ll walk away, and I understand suddenly, why she chooses loneliness in the forest rather than to live close to a city. She’s running from her other side just the same as I am. We’re meant for each other more than we even knew.

  Sighing, I step forward and pull her close, hugging her tight. She blinks in confusion up at me. “You’re not mad?”

  “I understand. You forget. I’m the bad sibling in the situation and my sister still reached out a hand to save me in the end. I understand completely, and I do not blame you. Whatever you are, an idol, a witch, it doesn’t bother me, because
you looked at a monster and it didn’t bother you.”

  She shudders in my arms, wrapping her own tightly around my waist. “We should find her. Your sister. You should bridge the gap while there’s still time. I can try to find her with my idol powers, with a particular potion, but it’ll drain me, so we have to be prepared to leave as soon as I know which world she’s in.”

  “And if they try to kill me?” I’m not sure how close we can get, if I’ll ever be able to convince them all I don’t want to hurt them. Without the curse upon me driving my every move, I can see everything so clearly. I’ve been a villain by force, and though I’ll never be good, though I’ll never be a hero again the things I’ve done, the least I can do is find some redemption in my sister’s eyes. The least I could do is protect her daughter and help her with her bestial side.

  “Well,” Azalea smiles. “It’s a good thing you have the Wicked Witch by your side.”

  We spend the rest of the day packing a bag for a long trip, and then we leave the safety of the cottage, off to find a way to Wonderland, the place Azalea’s spell tells us to look, the world she’s still alive in. It’s time I stop thinking of my Crocodile as the villain. It’s time I become a good brother, instead.

  It’s time to stop hoping things will go away the more I feed the Crocodile, that he will eat me last if I do so. He’ll still eat my humanity, and I don’t want that.

  I want to be more man than beast, and I want to make that decision on my own, not because an idol playing house decided so.

  So I take the hand of the Wicked Witch and I step into an unknown world, knowing it’ll be far more dangerous than any adventure yet, but at least I have someone at my side worth fighting for. At least I have family out there that could need my help.

  And that is far more important.

  Azalea strokes her finger down my arm, a smile on her face, emotion shining in her eyes just as they do in mine. Perhaps, I’m not the only one giving away their heart.